Twisted
by Twistedsystem009
Summary: It took all Drayvenas could muster to heal her heart after her sister's death as a child, but it would take even more to jump this hurtle. Dragonborn...the name rolled off her tongue and sounded right in her ears, but she couldn't accept that it was her. So why did she still do it? There was no way out of her twisted fate.
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

_Prologue: Broken Hearts Never Heal_

Drayvenas had always admired her older sister; the eldest, and prettiest, child in the family. While their brothers tackled each other in the yard, or helped Pa chop wood, Drayvenas and Fjolti would help their mother with sewing, gathering, cooking, or cleaning. In their spare time, they would wander the woods, practice with their daggers, play with their dolls, or braid each other's hair. As the two got older, they got closer and farther apart all at the same time. Drayvenas was jealous of all the things her sister got to do before her, but Fjolti was also the only one that she could relate to. And Fjolti was mad that Drayvenas got to to do the easier tasks, but shared the same bond. And while she thought that Fjolti was prettier, Fjolti thought that her sister was prettier than her. Both equally beautiful, though. Drayvenas had long, straight, pale blonde hair, stormy blue-grey eyes, pale skin, and a slightly less angled face than Fjolti, as she was younger. Fjolti had chin length dark hair, vivid green eyes, very tan skin, and a more pointed face shape. They were equal in height, but Drayvenas, despite being younger, was a few inches taller. In this moment in time, mum was sewing their new clothing, and the two sisters were down at the lake. Fjolti carried a picnic basket sewn from birch strips and Drayvenas carried a smaller basket for the beautiful finds that would be sure to wash up on the shore. When they were settled on the waving grass, Fjolti carefully unwraveled the cloth cradling the food and laid it on a platter. Drayvenas leaned her head back and let the breeze play across her face, stretching out her long legs. Her silky hair, braided in a crown, rippled occasionally, when the wind was especially strong. Fjolti had her bangs pinned back, and her hair barely even moved, as it was so short. Drayvenas nibbled on a wedge of fresh of goat cheese, staring at the glossy hem of her white dress. "Drayvenas?" Fjolti whispered, shaking her sister's shoulder. "Hmm?" Drayvenas looked up, pulling back her hair to see what Fjolti was pointing at. A group of bandits paced the bank across the river, preparing a boat to sail across. Without saying a word, the girls pulled each other up and ran to their father, who was chopping wood by the stables. "Are two alright?" He asked, pulling his shaking children close. "T-there's bandits across the river, and they've got a b-boat." Fjolti said softly, trembling from head to toe. Drayvenas, who was usually the more adventurous of the two, felt dread crawl into the pit of her stomach and work its way up to her chest and throat, putting a knot in both. "Get your mother and younger brother, and _stay inside._" He commanded, going to find their eldest brother. When they approached their mother, she bundled them in her arms and pulled their youngest brother, Jon, after her. When they were inside, she told them to grab the most important things and head to the cellar. Fjolti took a few spare dresses, her favorite velvet blanket, and her set of dolls. Drayvenas took basically the same things, except that she also took a few books and a special box filled with all of her treasures. He mother gathered the food and other essentials. Then they retreated to the cellar.

There was a lot of fighting noises above, and Drayvenas' family stayed huddled in the room farthest from the hatch—the room with the forge. Her mother shoved everything special into an empty safe with shaking hands, and handed out a boiled cream treat to each of the children. Fjolti and Drayvenas shook in each others arms, while Jon lay awake in their mother's, not exactly sure what was happening. It was at least a day before their father and Idolaf, their eldest brother, returned. No one said anything as the family ventured back up to the surface, surveying the complete wreck their home was. "It's alright," Her mother said, talking more to herself than anyone else. "We'll manage to get it done." It was later that day that the worst happened.

Fjolti left to gather the chicken eggs and...and she didn't come back for quite a while. Mum sent Drayvenas off to see where she was and...she found the worst sight. A bandit stood above Fjolti's dead body, grinning sadistically. When he saw Drayvenas he ran off, leaving her to weep over her sister's death. Drayvenas' mother came out a few minutes after Drayvenas and keeled over in shock. Pushing aside Drayvenas to weep over her baby. She would never forget the look in her mother's eyes. The pain, the sorrow, and the anger. She never knew if it was anger directed towards Drayvenas, herself, or the bandits. But it still hurt.

And so many years later, it still hurt.


	2. Chapter 2 Falling

Drayvenas leaped off of the mountain, ready to plunge deep into the freezing grey waters. A shriek tore from her bloody lips, but it was almost silent with the wind and the deafening roar of the wounded dragon. Her grip on the ebony sword given to her by the Greybeards never loosened, though her shoulder felt like it could be dislocated any second. She had suffered worse. While she tried to make out the scaly beast in the blistering wind and rain, her arms waved wildly above her head, trying to grab onto something. She felt a sharp pain in her left leg and looked down to see a crimson fang stuck in one of the two deep wounds in her leg. She yanked out the dragon's tooth and tucked it loosely into her empty dagger strap. Then she sheathed her ebony sword and reached for her bow. She let herself float gracefully on her back, but she was still plummeting downwards. Notching an arrow, she released the bowstring and hit the great crimson dragon in the underbelly. He roared in pain, and she shot one of his wings, than the other one. He began to fall with her, no longer being able to fly. Drayvenas sheathed her bow, hastily securing the straps, and curled into her landing position. She seemed to land in the icy water in slow motion, with a great splash. She fought to make her way to the top, only beginning to feel overwhelmed and dizzy when she reached the shore. She had absorbed the dragon's soul. She always felt that way-faint-whenever she took in the soul. It almost hurt, and she thought that she could hear the whispers of betrayal and the pain in their dead eyes. Perhaps it was just her imagination.

It had to be.

She leaned back, not even feeling the pure white snow, as she was already so cold. When she stood, water mixed with blood, leaving a faint red trail in her deep footprints. When it became night, she didn't stop walking. She walked all the way to Winterhold, then to Windhelm, where she took a carriage to Whiterun. When she arrived in Whiterun, there was no way to mistake her for anyone else. While most of the citizens of Whiterun were tan, she was pale-almost as pale the snow that she could almost blend with. Her hair appeared almost white, though it was slightly darker than her skin, but not silver. It was a very light blonde, and it did have streaks of silver and white, but not enough to classify it that colour. Her eyes were stormy grey-blue, only a shade or two darker than the arctic oceans. Her face was sharply angled, with high cheekbones and shallow cheeks. She wore loose, bronze-gold-brown coloured pants, with plenty of pockets, a tunic, a heavy jacket made of bear fur, thick hide gloves, and fur boots. Now, she limped through the gates of her true home, still drying, and feeling the dragon fang bang against her uninjured thigh. There would be a bruise; in fact, there probably already was. She shielded her eyes from the bright sun, looking so out of place, and dragging her wounded leg. When she managed to get inside of Breezehome, Lydia was gone, so she limped upstairs and collapsed on the bed, closing her tired eyes.

* * *

When Drayvenas awoke, the smell of potato soup and cooked venison wafted up from the kitchen. She changed out her bloody clothes and into a tunic and breeches that she had cut to knee length, for convience. As she undressed, she noticed that many of her arrows and potions had fallen during her insane plummet to the ocean. Sighing, she tossed everything to the end of the double bed, telling herself that she could deal with it later. She limped down the rickety stairs and settled into one of the chairs by the fire, staring into the roaring flames, not even noticing when Lydia began to speak. "...and Ysolda made a deal with the caravans-are you even listening?" Was all that Drayvenas heard when she came to. "Hmm?" She looked up, and Lydia gasped, just noticing the state she was in. "My Thane!" She cried, fumbling in her knapsack for a healing potion. "Lydia, I'm fine, I swear." Drayvenas called after her, as she rushed to the alchemy laboratory for a more efficent potion and cold rag. "Go upstairs and get those clothes off. I want to see every wound." Drayvenas sighed and dragged herself upstairs, waving a hand in acknowledgement when Lydia called, "_Every single one!_"

"Are you ready yet?" Lydia asked impatiently, after Drayvenas had disappeared into the bedroom for a few minutes. When she didn't reply, Lydia entered without asking. Drayvenas was sat on the end of the bed, her clothes heaped in a pile on the floor. "Drayvenas?" Lydia whispered, colour draining from her face. She looked up, her face blank. "Are you alright?" Lydia asked, kneeling by her side. "I-I'm fine. Sorry." Drayvenas muttered, sticking out her wounded leg. "Gods! What happened?" Lydia breathed, surveying the gallery of injuries displayed across Drayvenas' body. "I...I might have jumped off of a cliff...well, a mountain, really." Drayvenas admitted, throwing back her head as Lydia peered over her hand at her thane's thigh. "What about that?" She asked, horror in her eyes. "A dragon may have bit me." Her voice was quieter now. "It could have taken off your leg!" Lydia screeched, preparing the healing potion. "_It _was only trying to defend itself!" Drayvenas snapped sharply. Lydia froze, glancing up at Drayvenas with a confused expression. "Just finish what you're doing and leave me alone." She said, falling back on the bed. An instance of hurt cross Lydia's face, but she set to work on her thane's wounds.

* * *

**I liked the first part of that chapter, but the end was kinda...meh. I don't know, it was okay. And I'm just going to let you know that any dog I ever have in a Skyrim fanfic is going to be named Brandy. Yeaaaaaaaah, son. And every cat Sam. My cat, well, my sister's cat (whatever)is named Sam and he's sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo awesome. Love ya guys :) xxooxxoo**


	3. Chapter 3 Dreams

**I forgot to ask in the last chapter, but who do you see Drayvenas modeled after? Holy crap, I almost fell out of my chair. Ah...that was terrifying.**

* * *

_"Karliah? Karliah?!" Drayvenas screamed, standing on a thin sliver of boiling rock, a sea of molten lava and fire bubbling beneath her. "Karliah!" She called again, fear in her usually calm voice. On the horizon, there was an orange ring, coming closer and closer. The rock was splitting-she was falling. "NO! KARLIAH!" Then the lava and fire wasn't even lava and fire, but soft grass. She was in a meadow, and sitting under a tree was Karliah. "Karliah!" Warm tears of relief coursed down her cheeks. "Karliah, I was so afr-" She stopped in horror, seeing a mixture of depression, anger, and sorrow in her Dunmer friend's eyes, while she slit her throat with Drayvenas' own ebony dagger._

Drayvenas bolted upright with a shriek of terror, her fingernails clutching the sheets so hard she thought they might break through the thin cloth. She shivered once and tried to ignore the dreaded feeling of loneliness in the pit of her stomach, as she stumbled to the washbasin. She splashed cool water across her face and fell back on the bed. She always had that same dream, but with different people each hadn't happened for so long she was sure that she was over it. She dressed in her armour, not even worrying about the two holes in the right thigh pantsleg. She strapped on her quiver and bow, sheathed her sword, and lugged her knapsack onto her back, not even noticing the dragon fang still banging against her uninjured leg. There were more important things on her mind. She left Lydia and the rest of Whiterun still sleeping. She mounted her black stallion and rode off, towards Ivarstead.

* * *

Drayvenas hugged her arms to her chest, cursing the cold. She trudged through the snow and up to the bronze doors. She used the set on the left, as she always had, and flexed her stiff fingers in her thick gloves. The great stone hall was silent, and not much warmer than the blizzard outside. She made a blind guess and turned down a random hallway, searching for Arngeir. "Dovahkiin." Borri greeted her, bowing. His whisper shook the ground, and seemed almost as cold and emotionless as everything else. "Master Borri." She bowed in the same manner, swallowing painfully and clutching her stomach. "Master Arngeir?" She asked, and he pointed her down a hallway. She had always found it interesting that their leader didn't have the strongest voice, and that the one with the weakest Thu'um was so weak, yet so powerful. "Arngeir?" She whispered, sitting against the wall beside him. He turned away from the window where he kneeled, praying, and saw her sitting there. "Dragonborn, what are you doing here?" He looked worried. Brushing the inexistenet dust from his robes, he pulled her up and they sat opposite each other at a wooden table. "I need advice on...on dreams." Arngeir's brow furrowed, and he frowned. His eyes fell to her arms still clutching her stomach tightly. "Are you sick? Is everything alright?" Drayvenas, who didn't realize what she was doing, raised her eyebrows, then looked down. "Oh! It's a nervous habit. I'm fine...well, maybe not completely." She admitted, gazing over his shoulder. "What about this dream?" He asked, bringing her out of her reverie. "I was standing on a thin strip of rock, and there was a lake of lava beneath me, or so I thought. I was screaming for...for Karliah. But she wasn't there. Then the rock split in half and I fell, but instead of getting burned to death, I landed in a meadow.

I saw Karliah sitting under a tree, but when I got to her, she lo...she looked at me and then slit her throat. With _my_ dagger." Drayvenas recalled, looking like she was choking on air. "But this dream happens with different people...people close to me. The first time it was...was...my late sister. The second my mother, then father, then both of my brothers, Delphine, Lydia, Jarl Balgruuf, Ysolda and Carlotta Valentia, Uthgerd, Brynjolf, Rune, Nazeem, Babbette, Faralda, and Tolfgir." Her words became jumbled and hasty towards the end of the short list of people who she was close to. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer." Drayvenas nodded. "Alright. I...I've got to get going." She lifted the right corner of her mouth in a weak smile. "Don't get too stressed."

"I'm afraid that's not an option."

* * *

**Sorry for the super short chapter, I'm just eager to start chapter 3...and I don't want to start chapter 3 here, 'cause it's too epic. EEEEEPPPPPIIIICCCC! Love ya! :D xxooxxoo**


End file.
